inke

Whoſe corage when the feend perceiud to ſhrinke, / She poured forth out of her helliſh ſinke / Her fruitfull curſed ſpawne of ſerpents ſmall, / Deformed monſters, fowle, and blacke as inke, / Which ſwarming all about his legs did crall, / And him encombred ſore, but could not hurt at all.